Bay Laurel's Story
by A Caccia Di Stelle
Summary: A young girl named Bay Laurel takes Katniss's place as Primrose's volunteer. Effie Trinket grabs the slip of paper beside Peeta's instead. Now two very different people have been called to represent District 12 and their Games will be nothing like the Games before. This time, everything is different. Read and review, please.


"Bay Laurel," a soft, feminine voice called from the other side of the door, "it's time to get up. The reaping is in a few hours."

"I'm awake," I responded. I'd been awake for hours, actually. The nights before the reaping were always long and restless, filled with anxious visions of my name being picked from the large ball of names.

The door opened slowly to reveal a small woman with long red hair and troubled green eyes, my mother Jewel. She looked out of place among the people of District 12, but she was still beautiful. I shared her looks, though my hair was darker, my eyes were more defined, and I lacked her abundant curves.

"What's that?" I asked, noticing the dark material she clutched in her hand.

"Your new dress," she answered. "You said last year your old one was getting too small, so I made you a new one. I've been working on it for a while now."

I took the dress from her and held it up to examine it. It was a pretty green with dull buttons filing down the chest.

"It matches my eyes," I observed. She smiled slightly and leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

"Happy birthday, Bay Laurel. Go ahead and get dressed. Breakfast is ready when you get done."

She left me to discard my nightclothes and tug my dress on. The material was soft against my skin and snug against my abdomen, stopping just below my knees. Satisfied with my attire, I walked into the kitchen.

My mother was the tailor for District 12, so we lived decently (compared to others, anyways). We could be better off or worse off –her occupation left us right in the middle.

I sat at the table and a bowl of oatmeal was placed in front of me. My stomach tightened in protest at the thought of food, but I picked up the spoon and started to eat anyways.

Loud footsteps sounded behind me as my stepfather, Marc, sat down beside me. He was a big, handsome man, his shoulders broad and squared, with a well mix of laugh lines and frown lines etched into his features. "Happy birthday, Bay," he said with a grin. "Seventeen, huh? You're going to be as old as me soon."

"You're ancient, not old." I retorted, a slight smile dressing my lips. Jewel placed a bowl in front of him and kissed his lips quickly before taking a seat on the other side of me. "Did you give it to her yet?" He asked.

"Give me what?" I raised a brow, pushing my bowl away. I'd only taken a few bites, but my stomach refused to take anything else. My appetite would return after the Reaping was over –I'd be starving afterwards.

Jewel reached into the pocket of her dress and placed something in my hand. "It's not much, but we thought you might like it."

I watched them curiously before looking at the object in my hand. A circular charm depicting a mockingjay in flight hung on a suede choker.

"How much did this cost?" I asked, looking between them.

"That's nothing you need to worry about," Marc said sternly.

"Had we not been able to get it, we wouldn't have." Jewel told me, smiling. She didn't smile often. "Do you like it?"

I glanced back at the bird in flight, running my thumb over the smooth metal. "I love it," I said honestly. "Will you put it on me?"

"Hold your hair up," Jewel instructed as she took the choker and fastened the clasp.

"Lovely," Marc grunted with approval. I smiled once more and then turned to look at the clock. We had close to forty five minutes left. "Better finish getting ready," he sighed. "Be time to go soon."

Jewel's smile had vanished, as had my own. The good mood was gone, leaving a strained tension in its wake. "Come on," she told me as she stood. "We have to do your hair."

The next twenty minutes were spent quietly in front of the mirror as she brushed my hair and then pulled it into a high pony tail. Two strands were left down to frame my face. Afterwards, I pulled on my shoes.

I was ready.

When we reached the square, I was ushered into a crowd of seventeen year olds and left to simply stand and wait for things to start. My stomach was tight, my breathing was shallow, and my mouth was dry. I was so lost in my anxiety that it took Cherry placing her hand on my shoulder before I realized she was there.

"Day dreaming?" She asked, trying to smile. Her bright blue eyes were just as anxious as I imagined mine to be, but she seemed less tense. Cherry was always more relaxed than I was, though, so that wasn't surprising.

"Something along those lines," I admitted.

"Happy birthday," she said, raising a hand to the charm resting on my chest. "Is this what they got you? It's gorgeous." Her eyes flickered to my dress. "You look so pretty this year."

"Thank you," I smiled. "So do you." But she looked gorgeous every year –every day, really. Cherry had very light brown hair that fell straight down her back, never a strand out of place, with bright blue eyes. Every boy in our class had, at some point in time, liked her, but no one had ever been lucky enough to receive her affections.

"You're sweet." Her smile faded as the mayor stepped up, signaling that the reaping had started. For the first few minutes, the mayor droned on and on about how the games had come to be. He picked through the rebellion, the districts' defeat, and the laws of The Treaty of Treason. When that was over, he listed our oh-so impressive list of a whopping two victors.

One of those victors was sitting on stage, attempting to hug District 12's escort, Effie Trinket. The mayor reddened slightly as he announced said victor, Haymitch Abernathy, and quickly called on Effie to redirect everyone's attention.

Effie was more than happy to put herself out of Haymitch's reach. She stood quickly and crossed the stage to take her place in front of the podium. "Happy Hunger Games!" She trilled. "May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" (What a joke, right?)

Silence settled over the crowd as she made her way towards the girls' ball. "Ladies first," she practically giggled, dipping her fingers into the slips of paper. She swirled them around, genuinely trying to mix them up, and then plucked one from the bottom. I felt Cherry grab my hand, squeezing, as Effie unrolled the piece of paper and held it up. Her lips parted, she took a breath, and read:

"Primrose Everdeen."

It's amazing how much can go through your mind in a mere span of seconds.

As Primrose's name echoed around me, I thought of the little girl with soft blue eyes and a wide smile. She was a small ray of light in a place like 12, finding happiness in cloudless days and flowers. I also thought of her intensely bitter sister, Katniss, and how the only time Katniss didn't scowl was when Primrose was involved. And then I put those pictures together –I saw Primrose's world in Katniss, and Katniss's world in Primrose. Without looking through the crowd, I could see Katniss's horrified face as Primrose started to walk towards the stage.

"Prim," Katniss croaked a few feet in front of me. She was starting to push through the crowd. "Prim!"

She was going to volunteer –that was the only way she would be able to save Primrose now.

Their ultimatum was this: it would be one or the other. Katniss would go or Primrose would –the Capitol would have one of the Everdeen sisters and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Unless…

Katniss opened her mouth. I called out, "I volunteer!" Everyone heard me, but I said it again anyways. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Time froze in District 12 that day. The pause was short, but it was there. Effie put it back into motion. "How grand!" Uncertainty crossed her features as she said to herself, "This isn't exactly protocol, though..."

I wasn't moving.

"Well come on up, dear." Effie chirped.

"Bay," Cherry rasped, "go." She pushed me into the break into the crowd, into the open. If all eyes hadn't been on me before, they were now. I started forward slowly, away of the gazes that followed me as I walked. Right before the steps stood Katniss, Primrose held close in her arms. I met Katniss's eyes for a short moment before ascending the steps. Effie met me half way and led me to my place on stage.

"What's your name, darling?"

"Bay Laurel Helanthium," I recited slowly. Nothing, my own name included, seemed real.

"Bay Laurel. What a pretty name," she said. "Well, everyone, shall we give her a round of applause?"

No one clapped at first. Instead, silence once again settled over the crowd. This silence was different, however; it was heavy and terse. This silence meant something. The people of District 12 were, in the only way they could, protesting.

The mayor put his hands together and then, slowly, everyone else followed suit. It was quiet, short, and pathetic. I didn't realize I was crying until a soft tear broke on my collar bone. I was desperate to have the attention elsewhere now.

"Good girl," Haymitch laughed behind us. I turned to him just as he stood and started clapping. "Brave girl!" He laughed again. "That's the spirit of the Games! That's it!" He took a step forward and lost his balance, falling hard on his face.

"Now time for the boys!" Effie said quickly, drawing our attention away from the struggling drunk once again. She left me to cross the stage once more. Like before, she swirled the slips of paper in the ball around and picked one from the bottom.

"Gale Hawthorne."

"What?" I hissed before I could stop myself. Of all people, _him_? Why _him_?

Gale was, ironically, Katniss's best friend. He and I had met about two years ago during a game of truth or dare. Cherry had asked me to stay after school with her and I, with no good reason to decline, had agreed. She hadn't told me what we'd be doing.

"It'll be fun," she'd said to console me.

"Our parents will murder us if they find out," I'd hissed. She especially would have been in danger.

"But they won't," she'd said simply. With no other choice, I'd followed her behind the school. There had been one other girl and four boys, all of them older than us. The teens in the classes above us usually didn't talk to us, but Cherry's stunning looks changed that rule.

"Hey, guys." Cherry had said, smiling.

"About time," one of the boys said. He smiled as well, adoration bright in his eyes. I couldn't remember his name. "Ready?"

"For what?" I asked Cherry.

"We're going to play a game," she said.

"What game?" I demanded.

"Truth or dare," Gale smirked. "If you're scared, you can go home though."

I'd stayed. The first few rounds had been harmless enough. The other girl had picked truth and she'd been asked who her first kiss was (I hadn't known the boy). The boy that kept smiling at Cherry had picked dare and he'd been made to climb a tree and jump down (I wasn't very good at coming up with dares). Cherry had picked truth and she'd been asked who she liked (she proclaimed no one, but smiled at the boy that kept smiling at her). And then it was Gale's turn to pick.

"What's your name?" Gale had asked, turning his attention towards me.

"Bay Laurel," I'd responded evenly.

"All right, Bay Laurel," he grinned. "Truth or dare?"

And because I refused to look scared in front of him, I foolishly declared, "Dare." I had expected Gale to appear shocked or at least tested. Instead, his grin had widened.

"Kiss me."

The other boys had laughed, and they'd laughed hard. The other girl had bristled, saying that the dare was stupid. Cherry was shocked.

For a short moment, I seriously considered going home. And then Gale opened his freaking mouth.

"Well?" Gale prompted. "We're waiting." He was taunting me.

"You don't have to do it, Bay," Cherry told me gently.

Now, though, I wouldn't back down. I squared my shoulders and crossed the short distance between us to stand in front of him. "Lean down," I snapped. Back then, he'd been nearly two feet taller. I stood on my toes just as he leaned down. Our lips clashed in the middle.

My first kiss was emotionless and hot. He was experienced, moving his lips carefully and expertly against my clumsier own, guiding me step by step. His tongue traced my lips, brushed my own, and then he pulled away. I was dazed, staring blankly at his chest.

"You need practice," Gale mused. I had smacked him hard and walked away. We hadn't spoken since. Looking back now, I wish I had told him he could teach me, since he'd been so eager before.

Gale mounted the stage, his eyes dark and haunted, and moved to stand beside me. Effie called for volunteers, but no one spoke up. Gale had family –three siblings, in fact- but none of them were old enough to do anything anyways.

With nothing left for her to do, Effie bid us adieu and made room for the mayor once more. He took is stand in front of the podium and started to drone once more, this time reciting the Treaty of Treason. I didn't listen, and I doubt Gale did. Instead, I spent my time scanning the crowd. Katniss and Prim stood with their mother. She had one arm around Primrose and held Katniss's hand tightly in her grasp. Another woman, Gale's mother, held Katniss's other hand. Her eyes were wide, horrified, and spilled tears. A little girl and two little boys in the crowd, Gale's siblings, shared her expression. Cherry stood in the same place and, while she held her head high, she also cried. I caught her parents' eyes in the crowd. They looked sad for me.

Finally, I looked at my parents. My heart broke; I was crying harder than before now. Marc's expression was hard. His eyes were unreadable and his lips were pressed so hard together they were white. My mother held his hand tightly, void of color. Even from where I stood, I could see her frame shaking with sobs.

The anthem ended. I hadn't even realized it started. Slowly, I turned to face Gale. He was still taller, but not nearly has drastically as he was before. Instead of staring at his chest, I was staring at his chin.

"Shake hands," Effie hissed from her place on the stage. Gale lifted his hand and outstretched it to me. I hesitated before lifting my hand to his. Our palms slid together slowly; it felt more like a caress than a shake. During this exchange, I looked up to his eyes. They were dark, detached, and determined.

I realized then what kind of enemy Gale would be. He hunted daily –he was skillful with weapons and quick witted. I found him every bit as intimidating and formidable as the Careers I would be facing in the arena. Gale Hawthorne would be just as capable of killing me as any of them.

He realized the same thing, but in a different way. He would make it to the final few; his real enemies would be the ones coming from District 1, District 2, and District 4. Perhaps a few from the other Districts, as well. But one problem he would not have to worry about was the girl standing in front of him. I would be an easy target.

After all, I couldn't even handle a kiss.


End file.
